


The Sin That I Haven't Done

by casey270



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Demonic Possession, M/M, Minor Character Death, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 00:37:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casey270/pseuds/casey270
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title: The Sin That I Haven't Done<br/>Characters: Adam, OMC<br/>Rating: R<br/>Word Count: 1900<br/>Disclaimer: Not mine, not real. Even the title is taken from My Crazy Mind by The Prisoners<br/>Warning: Minor character death, violence<br/>Summary: Do dreams make us what we are, or do they make us into what they want us to be?<br/>Horror Line: “Whatever you do, don’t fall asleep.” - Nightmare on Elm Street</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sin That I Haven't Done

He woke in a sweat, not remembering the dream but only the growing need to scream that pulled him from it. For three nights running, the scene had been the same. He’d woken up anxious and terrified, but excited and hard and on the verge of orgasm. He couldn’t remember anything about his dreams, but the feeling of his heart trying to pound out of his chest, and the word _NO!_ ready to break from his throat seemed to be trying to tell him that this was no simple escape into erotica.

He felt a sense of disconnection as he went about his day, never quite able to leave the mystery of the dream behind. He found himself snapping at people whose only transgression had been to pull him back to the usual daily business. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't focus. His mind felt as if it were wrapped in thick batting, filtering and buffering, but confusing and restricting, too.

The longer the day went on, the stronger the feelings became. Adam thought they should dissipate with more time between him and the dream, but they continued to intensify. By the time evening rolled around, he couldn't concentrate on anything beyond how his skin seemed to be crawling with unknown needs and desires.

He was disoriented and feverish and thought maybe he was coming down with some bug. They were easy enough to pick up when he came into contact with so many different people every day. He briefly considered making a nice hot cup of tea, but even that seemed beyond his capability.

Instead, he stumbled up the stairs, made his way into his room and fell across the bed. His eyes felt gritty with the need to sleep, to rest and replenish his body, but something about the dream that’d woken him still played at the corner of his mind. It whispered to him over and over, “Whatever you do, don’t fall asleep.”

He tried to remember what it was about the dream that the hidden part of his mind wanted to avoid, but his eyes were getting heavier by the second, and the world of darkness was pulling him in so hard he couldn’t fight it.

He didn’t even have a few seconds of blissful drifting before he felt it. It was at once familiar, yet still so foreign his mind refused to recognize it. He felt himself being locked away in a cage in his own mind, relegated to watching as a dark mist swirled and touched and contaminated every cell of his being. He felt a gleeful sense of wrongness growing inside himself and backed into the corner of his cage in fear. He watched with his own eyes as they flew open to see his hands rising before them. He heard with his own ears the wicked laugh that came from his throat but wasn’t his. He saw the room tilt and move as his body rose from the bed without him willing it to, and he listened to the quiet whispers all around him crying out in hunger and need.

The whispers built to voices, and the voices built to screams, and he found himself surrounded by a wall of noise telling his body to prepare for the hunt. He saw his hands picking out clothes and accessories. He looked into the mirror as he watched himself applying makeup to his own face: dark smokey colors around his eyes, wet slick gloss to his lips.

He watched as his feet led him out to his car and tried to tell himself that this wasn’t real, that it was still only a dream, but he couldn't believe it. He saw scenery and cars flowing past his line of sight as whoever or whatever it was that was controlling his body wove through traffic. He watched as his car was parked on a shadowed street in a part of town he tried never to venture into. 

There were desperate buildings and desperate people all around him. People went from one place to another, looking for excitement, for anything that might bring a thrill to their lives. He felt the voices responding to that desperation, sucking up every last drop of misery but still craving more.

Adam could feel his body striding through the crowds, making its way with haughty confidence and disdain for its surroundings, and all the while the voices around him buzzed like locusts. He could feel the sibilation of their words vibrating through the entirety of his being. They wanted to feed and be fed, and the thought of what they planned to feed on terrified him.

He saw himself passing through the doorway of a dark, shadowed club. It was a place of hopeless hook-ups and mindless sex, accompanied by a light covering of music and alcohol. He watched the scene around him as his body made its way to the bar, seemingly ignoring everyone and everything around it. He could feel the attention in the room coming to focus on him. He could see stares as his body walked past. He knew he must be projecting an air of superiority with a touch of a predator, an unobtainable goal on the face of it, but a goal with a pull. 

Adam could feel something in his body reaching out to everyone, broadcasting some unseen aura that captured the attention of every other patron. He was able to see what his own eyes were seeing, but it was like looking through twin windows. He felt like he was a layer removed from actually being able to call it sight. Seeing the movement of his body this way was disconcerting and slightly disturbing. He could hear his own voice chatting up various patrons, looking for what he could only think of as prey. The buzzing of the insectile voices around him grew and grew and grew until Adam realized they were chanting in unison, the words strange and archaic, but the rhythm strong and hypnotic. 

Adam felt himself being pulled into the rhythm, his mind closed to everything else, yet willing to do whatever the hidden words commanded. He felt a buzzing itch under his skin, driving him almost insane as the intensity of the chanting grew. He felt a need to be touched, a need to be used, a need to be dominated by whatever was behind the voices, and he saw that need reflected in each face in the club.

All at once he felt his eyes narrow as his sight landed on one particular man. Adam saw the man as big: tall with broad shoulders and heavy muscles. Adam could feel the pull of the buzzing reaching out to the man, and even though he was bigger and stronger than Adam himself, he wanted to scream and tell him to run away as fast as he could.

The intensity of the voices around him grew even more, now that they had found a target. Adam could feel them reverberating throughout his body, making him tremble, and he was sure the object of tonight’s hunt could feel them, too. They spoke of need and taking without permission. They whispered of sin and decadence. They shouted of power and desire, and Adam knew the poor bastard they’d set their sights on didn’t stand a chance.

Adam saw the movement of the room as the mass of voices that were manipulating his body walked over to the man. He saw his hand reach up and trail the back of his fingers down the man’s cheek as the voices whispered sinfully. He saw a dazed look of subjugation and lust settle in the man’s eyes, and he would have done anything to be able to end this now, but he was trapped in the cage in his mind, listening to the never-ending buzz of the voices.

He felt his body turning and walking toward the door and knew that the other man would be following. He watched as the sight of the interior of the club gave way to the streets outside, before coming to a halt in a dark alley behind the building. 

He saw the world spin in a flash as his body rounded on the man and pushed him roughly against the wall, while his mouth came down forcefully against the stranger’s lips. He heard the voices commanding the man to open for him, and felt the sensations as his tongue slipped into the other’s mouth.

Adam heard the insistent voices shout with glee as they went deeper and deeper into the man, searching for something dark and precious. Adam could feel the man’s hands pushing ineffectually against him, but the strength of whatever was behind the voices was too much for him. 

He could feel his arousal growing as the voices delved further into the core of the man in front of him, never wavering in their search for their prize. He felt his dick jump and harden as the buzzing drone found and surrounded the shining life force hidden in the man.

 

He could feel whatever it was behind the voices taking and taking and taking from the man, while his own body seemed to grow: grow in power, grow in stature, grow in dominance. And all the while his body grew, he could hear the voices nearing a fever pitch. Adam wanted to shut them out. Oh, god, how he wanted to shut them out, but they were inside him, they _were_ him, and he couldn’t hide from them.

He felt all that was the other man slowly feeding the voices. They were hungry, and they were greedy. The voices were determined to take everything from the man before they would let this kiss of death end. Somehow Adam knew that’s what it was. He knew as surely as he knew that he wasn’t controlling his own body that this would be the last night this man lived. These were the last few moments of this stranger’s time on earth, and Adam wanted to scream and rail against whatever these voices were, but he could do nothing but retreat to the furthest corner of the cage the voices kept him in.

Finally, the voices took everything there was from the man, and when the kiss broke, Adam looked out and saw a dried husk left behind, and his mind was overcome with revulsion. The desiccated remains of the man slid slowly down the wall as Adam felt his body reacting with sexual release. The spreading wetness on the front of his pants repelled and disgusted him as much as the sight of the withered body before him, but it seemed to be of no concern to the voices that continued to buzz in sated degeneracy.

Adam watched as his body calmly walked back to his car, screaming at the voices over the wrongness that they had done, the wrongness in which they’d made him an unwilling participant. He shouted as the voices drove home while the sky started brightening for another day. He cursed as whatever was directing his body entered his home and removed the soiled clothing before climbing into bed and closing its eyes, leaving him in silent darkness, the voices finally soundless in his head.

He was still shouting _NO!_ when he awoke, his heart pounding, his breath quickening, and his dick standing hard against his belly. It was another night of nightmares he couldn’t remember, and he knew the feeling of disconnection would be his companion again today.


End file.
